E 

672. 
075- 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


GEN.  U.  S.  GRANT. 


PVlRS.    AZALIA    E.vOSGOOD 


ERRATA. 


Page  9,  line  1,  no  should  be  omitted. 

"  9,  "  25,  implse  should  read  impulse. 

11,  "  4,  should  read  upon  the  valiant. 

"  13,  "  17,  tiding  should  read  tidings. 

u  16,  "  3,  to  should  read  unto. 

"  17,  "  17,  assign  should  read  assigns. 

44  35,  •'  14,  him  should  read  Grant. 

"  36,  "  8,  scrol  should  read  scroll. 

u  39,  "  21,  sremed  should  read  seems. 

"  39,  '•  23,  explicit  should  read  implicit. 

"  40,  "  2,  a  should  read  on. 

"  40,  "  17,  lighning  should  read  lightning. 

"  40,  "  21,  should  read  which  waxelh  like  unto. 


CORRECTED    BY    THE    AUTHOR. 


Page  9,  line  1,  should  read 

Now  paid  his  last  respects  nor  could  do  more, 
Page  9,  line  25,  should  read 

With  sudden  impulse  to  partake  it  more, 
Page  11,  line  4,  should  read 

For  charge  is  made  upon  the  valiant  row 
Page  13,  line  17,  should  read 

While  all  our  land  with  joyous  tidings  teems 
Canto  II.,  line  6,  should  read 

Is  by  the  force  of  circumstance  affected  ; 
Page  15,  line  3,  should  read 

Like  merest  drudge  he  turns  unto  wood-hauling, 
Page  17,  line  3,  should  read 

Wait  no  instructions  from  the  better  versed, 
Page  17,  line  17,  should  read 

To  gallant  soldier  he  assigns  command 
Canto  IV.,  line  13,  should  read 

And  drowsy  conscience,— so  great  was  their  number, 
Canto  V.,  line  1,  should  read 

The  scroll  seems  welked  to  a  battered  chart 
Canto V".,  line  12,  should  read 

The  shaft  of  critic  may  ne'er  disarm  ; 
Page  35,  line  14,  should  read 

By  lifting  Grant  to  station  high. 
Canto  VIII.,  line  8,  should  read 

(Athwart  the  lightened  scroll,) 
Canto  IX.,  line  21,  should  read 

At  juncture  when  to  fail  seems  greivous  wrong, 
Canto  IX.,  line  23,  should  read 

Thus  proving  strength  of  their  implicit  trust  ; 
Page  40,  line  2,  should  read 

'Tis  done!     Each  failure  causeth  new  resolve 
Page  40,  line  17,  should  read 

In  twain  by  lightning  of  Atlanta's  fray. 
Page  40,  line  21,  should  read 

Which  waxeth  like  unto  a  sheet  of  flame 
Page  40,  line  23,  should  read 

Lo  ! — In  chimeric  fashion  it  doth  fade 
Page  53,  line  2o,  should  read 

Do  thus  renew  their  elsewise  flagging  power 
Page  53,  line  27,  should  read 

Doth  quaintly  span  the  zenith, — is  inscribed 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


GEN.  U.  S.  GRANT. 


MRS.  AZALIA  E.   OSGOOD. 


PORTLAND,  OREGON: 
PRESS  OF  GEO.  H.  HIMES,  169-171  SECOND  ST 

1886. 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED  BY  THE  AUTHOR. 


INDEX 


Introduction 

Ulysses  S.  Grant 3 

Vision  on  the  Mount 5 

Bock  of  Ages 41 

Requiem 42 

The  Last  Tribute 43 

A  Voice  from  Afar—  ._  50 


O 


INTRODUCTION. 


Not  "  mightier  than  the  sword  "  which  once  refused, 
Yet  found  its  way  unto  the  Nation's  heart, 

And  proved  itself  to  be  so  wisely  used 
That  it  became,  in  time,  a  vital  part 

Of  earth's  vast  magnet — is  this  trembling  u  pen  "  ; 

Nay,  nor  so  mighty  wrill  it  e'er  become. 
A  little  while  't  will  struggle  on,  and  then 

Its  trace  of  utmost  effort  will  succumb 

To  learn-ed  phrase  of  sage  philosophy. 

Which  hath  so  little  part  in  woman's  life, 

That  all  her  paths  seem  blocked  by  sophistry, 
Her  eveiy  action  with  emotion  rife. 

Yet,  't  is   with  all   a  woman's  yearning  trust, 
I  proffer  what  my  woman's  heart  impelled, 

Till,  forth  from  desert  waste  of  mortal  dust, 
A  spring  of  "  sentiment  "  hath  purely  welled. 

O,  may  its  "  little  drops  "  swell  crystal  fount, 
So  swiftly  forming  in  the  Nation's  soul; 

Its  gathered  gems  add  lustre  to  amount, 
That  rears  a  monument  from  perfect  goal. 

AZALIA  E.  OSGOOD. 

ASTORIA,  OREGON,  Feb.  1,  1886. 


ULYSSES  S-  GRANT. 

Born  April  27,  1822. 
Died    July    23,  1885. 

Lo  !  all  the  world  is  in  monrning  to-day; 

Nature  herself  seemeth  sad-faced  and  tender; 
Even  the  song-bird  has  silenced  its  lay, 

As  if,  by  instinct,  mute  tribute  to  render. 

No  one  will  wonder  that  silence  doth  reign; 

No  one  will  ask  that  the  hush  shall  be  broken; 
Each  heart  accepteth  its  portion  of  pain; 

Sorrow  so  vast  hath  no  need  to  be  spoken. 

From  the  deep  soul  of  the  Nation  evolves 

Grief  so  profound,  so  unique,  so  o'erpowering, 

'Round  which  the  world's  "  common  sorrow"  revolves, 
E'en  till  u  the  birds  of  the  air  "  nestle  cowering. 

Flags  at  half-mast  on  the  land  and  the  sea; 

City  and  hamlet  and  broad-breasted  ocean, 
Family  circles  in  homes  of  the  free, 

With  one  accord  now  evince  their  devotion 

To  the  brave  Hero  just  passed  to  his  rest. 

Dead  unto  men,  yet  supremely  immortal; 
Name,  deeds,  and  birth-place,  futurity -blest, 

From  History's  page  unto  Heaven's  own  portal. 

For  as  time  winnows  with  mellowing  hand, 
Hearts  will  yield  even  more  tender  emotion 

Unto  the  valor-fraught  deeds  of  the  land; 
Unto  the  winner  of  highest  promotion, 


TTLYSSP:S  s.  GRANT. 

Tnto  the  victor,  the  hero,  the  man; 

I'nto  the  cause  he  so  nobly  defended; 
Lending  such  marvelous  zeal  to  the  van, 

That,  like  a  shock,  through  the  ranks  it  extended. 

Words  are  as   naught  of  his  courage  to  tell; 

Grant,  "  the  exalted  "—  still  much  more  remaineth— 
Warrior  and  chieftain? — peacemaker  as  well; 

He  who  but  now  crowning  victory  gaineth. 

Strains  that  are  martial,  soul-stirring,  sublime; 

Music  that  e'er  will  in  memory  linger; 
Notes  that  will  echo  full  solemn  with  time; 

Chords  that  bear  touching  with  reverent  finger: 

These  are  the  sounds  which  should  fall  on  the  ear, 
Thrilling  with  awe  while  in  harmony  blending — 

With  sighing  sob,   nay,  with  each  manly  tear — 
As  the  vast  concourse  ol  people  is  wending, 

With  muffled  tread  to  the  beat  of  the  drum, 

On  toward  the  spot  which  all  men  will  remember, 

There  the  soul's  temple  to  sadly  succumb, 
There  the  remains  of  the  great  to  surrender. 

Thence  to  turn  homeward  with  pondering  mind, 
Dwelling  in  awe  o'er  omnipotent  wonders; 

Seeking  the  key  which  none  ever  may  find, 

Till  cleaving  soul  from  its  mortal  clay  sunders. 

Ah,  let  us  hope  that  as  many  may  meet 

'Eound  u  the  white  throne  "-—Patriarchal  and  vernal— 
As  have  strewn  roses  beneath  the  tired  feet 

Of  the  world-hero  where  rest  is  eternal. 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT, 


CANTO  I. 


Like  swarthy  statue  wrought  of  tawny  bronze, 

He  stood  in  dark  attire  upon  the  mount; 
A  human  form,  with  bowed  uncovered  head, 

From  which  flowed  backward  waves  of  raven  hair 
His  attitude  was  that  of  rapt  despair. 
He  mourned  the  loss  ot  noble  friend  late  dead, 

Nor  lifted  piercing  eyes,  as  fain  to  count 
The  spangled  stars  which  queenly  evening  dons; 

Nor  queried  if  the  vast  array  comprised 
A  gleam  that  made  the  pulse  of  Heaven  quicken, 

Like  meteor  that  hath  lately  been  baptized 
In  lurid  furnace  where  death-shadows  thicken. 

He  deemed  lie  shared  the  multitude's  deep  grief- 
Save  that  more  poignant  had  his  own  become, 
Since  isolated  through  indulged  desire — 

To  stand  alone  on  Mt.  McGregor's  brow, 
And  dwell  in  thought  on  sufPring  over  now, 
Which  had  been  bathed  in  Heroism's  lire, 
In  that  its  victim  bore  in  anguish  dumb 
The  wage  of  war,  till  death  had  brought  relief; 

Nor  turned  his  gaze  rebellionsly  to-ward 
The  elements  along  the  line  extending. 

But  strove  tor  human  and  divine  accord 
When  he  foresaw'  the  weary  struggle  ending. 


8  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

JT  were  this  thought,  chiefly,  which  had  held  firm  place 

In  mind  of  this  lone  mortal  when  he  came, 
By  night,  to  pay  a  lingering  farewell 

To  hallowed  spot,  where  interchange  were  made 
Of  weakened  force,  and  glory  ne'er  to  fade; 
Where  soul  were  'wakened  by  shrill  trumpet  knell, 

To  sense  of  bliss,  and  to  far  greater  fame 
Than  any  won  in  life's  prodigious  race. 

With  but  to  draw  exhilarating  breath, 
And  in  bright  lieu  of  deadly  sabres  gleaming, 
Forevermore  dispelled  the  thought  of  death, 
By  guidons  of  the  saintly  hosts  outstreaming. 

He  wist  not  as  in  solitude  he  stood, 

Of  aspect  grave  and  venerative  mood, 
That  ere  another  hour  should  have  been  told 
A  strange  event  into  his  life  would  come, 
Most  mighty  in  its  comprehensive  sum ; — 
That  like  a  map  of  wonder  would  unfold 

The  substance  for  mature  reflection's  food, 
Which  all  men  would,  in  time,  acknowledge  good, 

And  visit  on  his  modest  head  unsought, 
A  shower  of  timely  plaudits,  reinstating 

What,  through  clear  lens,  to  vital  life  were  brought, 
When  in  the  world's  great  mart  't  were  fast  abating. 

He  did  not  ken  that  aught  was  now  in  store, 

Save  a  depressed,  unbroken  train  of  thought, 
From  which,  when  rallied,  he,  with  solemn  stride, 
Would  take  his  place  among  the  horde  of  men 
He  counted  friends — return  to  duty,  when 
Sweet  satisfaction  would,  perchance,  abide 
Within  his  breast,  since  he  had,  as  he  ought, 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  9 

Now  paid  his  last  respects,  nor  could  do  no  more. 
E'en  though  the  promptings  of  a  loyal  heart 
Would  bid  him  rank  himself  continuous  debtor, 

He  yet  believed  that  he  had  done  his  part, 
And  hoped,  through   buried   grief,  to   be  made  better. 

While  thus  he  stood  in  meditation  deep, 

Lo!  there  appeared  within  his  downcast  view, 
A  weird,  attractive,  and  peculiar  light, 

Whose  semblance  he  could  liken  unto  naught 
Save  to  a  glowing  camp-fire  which  had  caught 
The  silver  reflex  of  approaching  night, 

When  crescent  moon  presides  and  stars  are  few; 
When  Nature  floods  the  earth  with  one  vast  sweep 

Of  tintless  glory,  ere  she  landscape  flanks 
With  blentings  which  no  human  eye  may  measure, 

Nor  waits  the  coming  of  a  vote  of  thanks, 
Ere  yielding  up  to  night  her  short-lived  treasure. 

'T  were  of  a  truth  such  light  as  ne'er  before 
His  mortal  vision  keen  had  feasted  on, 
And  yet  for  him  no  terrors  it  possessed, 

For,  like  a  magic  beacon,  did  it  seem, 
An  unlooked-for,  but  more  than  welcome  beam, 
Which  all  his  soul  with  valor  did  invest, 
And  prompted  introspection,  till  anon, 
With  sudden  implse  to  partake  it  more, 

He  stepped  within  its  close  converging  lines 
And  sat  him  down  amid  Etruscan  billows 

Whose  flaming  pile,  fantastic  garland  twines 
Around  the  massive  jet  black  head  it  pillows. 


10  VISION   ON   THE  MOUNT. 

And  now  those  search  ing  eves  are  gently  raised, 

As  if  the  boat  <>J  bmtflictiort  brought 
Sweet  reassurance  mid  still  sweeter  hope 

Of  some  glad  wonder  soon  to  he  revealed       [healed 
Through  which  deep  wound  of  sorrow  may  he 
And  swathed,  betimes,  in  Balm  of  Gilead  cope, 

Till  such  complete  diversion  hath  been  wrought 
That  all  the  ways  of  wisdom  shall  be  praised 

When — banished  every  gloomy  thought  of  death, 
Which,  lost  to  view  behind  recorded  glory— 

The  mind  at  pace  writh  swift,  enraptured  breath, 
Must  concentrate  its  force  upon  the  story. 

'T  were  come  !     Already  magic  scroll  of  light 
Is  half  unfurled  before  his  yearning  view, 
And  scenic  outlines  swriftly  taking  shape, 

Which  promise  give  of  thrilling  acts  in  store, 
Of  which  he  hath  not  seen  the  like  before  ; 
But  which  cognizance  yet  do  not  escape 

For  full  accounts  in  books  to  life  quite  true 
He  hath  perused  with  vivid  mental  sight, 

Since  later  dramas  brought  into  relief, 
The  wondrous  valor  of  strategic  actor 

In  life's  great  conflict,  till  a  patriot  chief, 
He  rightly  ranked  the  Nation's  own  prime  factor. 

The  figures  Eighteen  Forty-Seven  flash 

With  iridescent  sparkle,  while  beneath, 
In  ruby  flame,  September  Eighth  appears 
On  the  expansive  and  illumined  scroll, 
Which  still  before  his;  vision  doth  unroll. 
Till  presently  he  din  of  battle  hears 
And  likewise  notes  an  aureolus  wreath 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  1 

In  contrast  to  the  smoke  which  follows  crash 

Of  firearms,  as,  advancing  on  the  foe, 
The  battle  of  Molino  del  Iley  rages — 

For  charge  is  made  upon  valiant  row 
As  fierce  as  e.Vr  were  told  on  History's  pages. 

And  foremost  'mid  that  storm  of  iron  hail 

One  form  advances  with  undaunted  will, 
With  eye  whose  gleam  betrays  intrepid  light 

And  features  blanched  through  other  cause  than  fear 
His  deeds  inspire  his  followers  with  cheer- 
While  on  they  press  into  the  thick  of  fight. 
Despite  the  volley  from  the  rugged  hill; 
Still  on,  till  breastworks  prove  of  small  avail— 

A  Hero,  yet  a  stranger  unto  men. 
Save  to  the  few  who  view  with  admiration 

His  tranquil  mien  and  nobie  bearing,  when 
Their  words  of  praise  bring  joy,  but  not  elation. 

'T  were  past.     The  smoke  of  battle  now  doth  roll 

Far  upward  till  no  vestige  there  remains, 
And  from  the  scene  of  action  have  withdrawn 

The  hosts  which  did  in  deadly  combat  meet; 
But,  soon  again,  the  drum  doth  loudly  beat! 
Nay,  scarcely  is  the  date  of  battle  gone, 

Ere  warfare  all  its  certainty  regains. 
For  now,  upon   the  panoramic  scroll, 

The  name  Chapultepec,  'mid  salient  fire, 
Leaps  into  view,  ablaze  with  pendant  jewels. 

Like  constellation  decking  ardent  lyre 
With  breath  ^Eolian,  choked  by  scorching  fuels. 


12  VISION  ON   TIIK   .MOl'XT. 

And  now,  again,  the  Hero  leads  the  way 

In  stolid  inarch  unto  the  castle  walls, 
As  if  unconscious  of  his  whereabout, 

Or,  that  his  deeds  than  others  are  more  brave, 
But  takes  the  part  of  battle's  humblest  slave, 
While  charging  on  the  enemy's  redoubt; 

Nor  heeds  the  import  of  the  whizzing  balls 
Which,  every  moment,  noble  comrades  slay, 

Till  it  would  seem  his  turn  of  need  were  next. 
Yet  does  not  fail  betimes  his  troops  to  rally, 
Who  fight  till  flees  the  enemy    perplexed, 
When  welkin  echoes  storm  the  woody  valley. 

'T  is  done!     Again  the  smoke  has  cleared  away, 

Yet  not  for  long — soon  follow  shifting  scenes, 
In  each  of  which  the  Hero  holds  his  own— 
For  noble  daring  and  for  brave  command, 
For  clear,  calm  head,  and  for  unswerving  hand, 
For  self-reliance  firm  as  e'er  were  shown, 

And  for  obedience  to  the  will  that  means 
Through  his  performance,  in  each  fresh  affray, 

To  add  another  to  the  victories  won, 
And  lessen  bloodshed  through  swift  termination 

Of  confidence,  till  every  foernan'sgun 
Shall  tremble  with  the  force  of  consternation. 

Scene  follows  scene  in  quick  succession  now, 
And  ever  bright  upon  the  magic  scroll, 
The  name  Ulysses  hath  a  look  sublime- 
Fringed  with  broad  halo  of  a  changeful   line. 
Like  morning  sun  inf  US-CM!  with  morning  dew, 
And  breathed  upon  by  grand   Homeric  rhyme, 


VISION  ON   THE  MOUNT.  1 

A  name  that  swells  the  list  on  Honor's  roll, 
Like  brilliant  token  ol  recorded  vow, 

Till  Mexico  forgets  to  longer  boast, 
But  hushed  by  all  the  powers  of  trepidation, 

Allows  the  Stars  and  Stripes  to  drink  a  toast 
O'er  head  bowed  low  in  deep  humiliation. 

The  last  grand  scene  of  foreign  series  fades, 

Till  scarcely  naught  is  left  upon  the  scroll, 
Save  porcelain  bumpers,  which  were  late  supplied 
With  nectar,  rich  as  Cleopatra's  wine, 
In  which  full  lustre  of  the  pearl  did  shine; 
A  draught  reflecting  wisdom's  star  to  guide. 

The  lion-hearted,  e'en  from  pole  to  pole, 
In  hours  of  peril,  through  the  deepest  shades, 

But  whose  sole  mission  for  the  present  seems 
The  ensign  of  the  brave  to  be  immersing, 

AVhile  all  our  land  with  joyous  tiding  teems 
Of  ended  war  and  regiments  dispersing. 

Thus  closeth  first  degree  of  mental  view; 

Our  glorious  banner,  faded  though  it  be, 
Hath  left  its  imprint  on  the  wondrous  scroll, 
As  ever  proudly  waving,  to  and  fro, 
It  came  in  contact  with  the  fiery  glow — 
Which  sipped  the  moisture  late  from  flowing  bowl, 

That  had  imbued  the  flag  renownedly  free, 
With  triumph's  nectar  clear  as  crystal  dew, 

Till  standard  rose  against  the  blanking  space, 
On  background  where  resplendent  tints  were    vieing, 

Peace  is  the  welcome  word  his  dark  eyes  trace 
'Neath  Victory's  steadfast  signal  calmly  flying. 


CANTO  II. 


Ere  long  the  scroll  assumes  a  steady  brightness, 
As  pledge  of  peace  enshrined  in  radiant  whiteness, 
Where  dove  of  snowy  plumage  lightly  flutters, 
Nor  dreameth  that  a  distant  war-cloud  mutters. 


The  Hero  by  the  world  unrecollected, 
Is,  by  force  of  circumstance,  affected; 
And  now  behold  him  at  his  post  of  duty, 
Despite  the  claims  of  wifely  love  and  beauty. 

New  scenes!  In  Golden  land  aw'hile  he  tarries, 
Then  to  remote  frontier  his  sword  he  carries, 
In  meek  submission  to  his  avocation, 
And  to  the  will  commanding  change  of  station. 

Behold,  a  conflict  in  his  breast  now  rages 
Which  every  faculty  of  mind  engages; 
Shall  he  resign  his  soldierly  position, 
Or  leave  a  wife  in  widow-like  condition? 

'Tis  o'er — his  resignation  he  hath  tendered, 

His  young  ambition  quietly  surrendered  ; 

And  now  upon  a  farm  behold  him  settled, 

With  self  so  curbed  that  none  would  deem  him  mettled. 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  15 

But  yet,  withal,  to  prosper  he  is  eager, 
And  as  his  income  from  the  farm  is  meagre, 
Like  merest  drudge,  he  turns  to  wood-hauling, 
Nor  murmurs  once  that  he  has  missed  his  calling. 

But,  though  the  scroll,  like  a  translucent  curtain, 
Appears  to  make  his  checkered  fate  uncertain; 
Yet,  glimpses  of  the  inner  man  reflected) 
A  light  which  past  and  future  scenes  connected). 

As  flash  of  lightning  in  the  cloudless  heavens, 
Doth  bring  to  mind  the  power  above  that  leavens— 
Those  glimpses  now  suggest  a  silent  wafter 
Of  mighty  changes  soon  to  follow  after. 

Y^et,  all  unflecked,  the  scene  that  next  appeareth, 
With  courage  which  the  bond  of  duty  cheereth, 
The  Hero,  loving  still  the  starry  banner, 
Doth  rank  among  his  fellow-men,  a  tanner. 

The  scene  upon  the  scroll  is  swiftly  flading, 
While  thunder-clouds  the  air  are  fast  pervading; 
Now,  warlike  symbols,  whose  dread  name  is  legion — 
Lo!  white-winged  Peace  hath  flown  to  other  region. 


CANTO    III. 


A  crimson  tide  is  surging  o'er  the  scroll 

With  marked  significance; — anon  is  formed 

The  opening  scene  in  Belmont's  bloody  fray, 
Soon  deadly  missile  mounted  steed  doth  slay. 
On  foot  the  Hero  leads  till  camp  is  stormed, 
Nor  pauses,  save  his  brave  troops  to  extol ; 

While  the  opponents  flee  in  wild  dismay. 
When  final  scene  he  views  with  aspect  calm, 

Till  smouldering  heap  late  tents  and  baggage  lay, 
Fired  by  the  torch  which  served  as  victor's  palm. 

An  intervening  space,  and  now  the  scene 
Is  one  of  wild  confusion ;  and  the  name — 

Fort  Donelson — gleams  far  above  the  place 
Where  pallid  men  are  running  Terror's  race; 
Each  for  himself,  forgetful  now  of  fame — 
For  love  of  life  doth  love  of  country  wean — 

While  Duty's  bond  a  fragile  myth  becomes 
In  scores  of  minds  that  hitherto  saw  not, 

With  naked  vision,  war  which  sense  benumbs; 
Hence,  'reft  of  courage,  field  and  road  they  dot, 

Like  flocks  of  blue-jays  startled  at  sunrise, 
By  sharp  reports,  to  find  their  numbers  less; 
To  witness  in  their  very  midst  grim  Death 
And  blood-shed  wrought  as  't  were  by  lightning's 
breath ; 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Too  scared  to  soar,  nor  instinct  may  repress; 
As  fledglings,  taken  thus  by  harsh  surprise, 

Wait  no  instruction  from  the  better  versed. 
Swift  panting  breasts,  denoting  fear  profound, 

In  anxious  flight,  each  striving  to  be  first — 
None  can  do  more  than  lightly  skim  the  ground. 

On  to  the  rescue  ! — Hero  now  doth  speed, 
Nor  deigns  to  rally  panic-stricken  men. 

But  turns  he  calmly  toward  the  noble  braves, 
Who  will,  if  need  be,  sleep  in  soldier  graves; 
Nor  hesitate  a  single  instant,  when 
His  practiced  eye  di  covereth  their  need, 

And  his  firm  tone  commandeth,  once  for  all, 
That  tierce  assault  be  made  without  delay, 
Which  shall  appearance  of  defeat  recall, 
And  with  God's  help,  insure  victorious  day. 

To  gallant  soldier  he  assign  command 

Of  two  brigades,  which  take  the  double-quick, 
And  hurry  forward,  eager  for  the  fray  ; 
While  he  to  dauntless  warrior  speeds  away, 
And  bids  him  three  brave  regiments  to  pick, 
And  for  the  onset  hold  them  well  in  hand. 

'T  is  done  !     The  mighty  column  now  is  formed  ! 
Their  fearless  leader  hastens  to  the  front, 

And  with  that  zeal  which  every  heart  hath  warmed, 
Lifts  cap  upon  his  sword,  and  takes  the  brunt 

Of  warfare  in  the  undismayed  advance 

Of  towering  column,  surging  up  the  heights, 

Unto  the  bulwarks,  whence  wide  ridge  of  tire 
Might  well  suggest  a  kindled  funeral  pyre; 


18  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Yet  which,  withal,  no  whit  their  courage  blights. 
Its  heated  breath  seems  valor  to  enhance — 

Rent  ranks  are  closed,  unmindful  of  the,  dead; 
The  wounded  moan  in  agony  unheard; 

Blood-boltered  path  they  resolutely  tread - 
Each  heaving  breast  with  fatal  ire  is  stirred — 

As  on  they  rush,  despite  the  rough  ascent, 

Thick  strewn  with  havoc,  clogging  toilsome  way, 
Through  oozing  and  coagulating  gore, 
Of  those  whose  fate  it  were  to  inarch  before, 
And  form  the  carnage  in  that  brave  array  ; 
On — to  avenge  the  sturdy  life-blood  spent, 

By  weapons,  in  the  hands  of  mortal  foe, 
Whose  ravage  numbers  full  two  thousand  men  : 

Stung  into  fury,  upward  still  they  go, 
'Mid  leaden  fire,  till  summit's  raught. — nor  ken 

How  many  shall  be  spared  to  tell  the  tale, 
Of  awful  conflict  they  believe  in  store, 

As  every  man  his  musket  now  doth  raise, 
And  level  with  unerring  aim,  one  blaze — 
As  if  infernal  flood  had  broken  o'er, 
And  Stygian  waters  deluged  all  the  vale 

For  one  brief  moment.     Ha  !  they  boldly  spring 
Upon  the  ramparts,  over  them  ! — and  now, 

The  smoky  air  with  their  loud  shouts  doth  ring, 
As  cheer  on  cheer  ascendeth  from  the  brow 

Of  the  intrenchment,  which  doth  overlook 
Discomfiture  within  the  Fort  below, 

Where  bleeding  hearts  are  probed  unto  the  core 
At  sight  of  Union  standard  floating  o'er 


VISION  ON  THE   MOUNT.  1  U 

The  works  they  deemed  impervious  to  foe. 
They  read,  as  it  were  written  in  a  book, 

The  issue  of  the  morrow;  and  resolve, 
'Mid  gloaming,  to  make  sure  of  swift  escape — ? 

And  to  this  end  they  speedily  absolve 
One  and  another  from  command  ! — Agape 

With  wonder,  flavored  well  with  wrath  and  scorn, 
The  doomed  subordinates  behold  them  flee; 
While  bitter  rancor  rises  in  eac'h  breast, 
That  they  are  subject  still  to  stern  behest — 
But  those  of  higher  rank  themselves  may  free, 
Nor  share  the  fate  of  prisoners  forlorn, 

To  whom  no  choice  is  left  except  to  raise 
The  flag  of  truce  with  morning's  rising  sun, 
Which  lowly  signal  greeting  Federal  gaze 
Will  tally  to  their  cause,  "  great  victory  won" 

The  night  has  fled;  the  keen  and  wintry  air 
Is  fraught  with  particles  of  glistening  frost, 
As  troops  assemble  at  the  roll  of  drum 
To  well  prepare  for  the  contest  to  come— 
One  thought — to  take  the  Fort  at  any  cost — 
Each  soul  inspires  with  will  to  do  and  dare; 

Lo,  even  now,  impatiently  they  wait 
The  order  which  shall  bid  them  onward  move. 

Hist — what  doth  now  their  spirits  so  elate 
That  cheers  burst  forth  their  joyful  state  to  prove? 

Ah,  '  tis  the  white  flag  waving  o'er  the  works 
They  had  but  now  intended  soon  to  storm; 

What  wonder,  then,  that  cheers  are  brought  to  bear, 
E'en  though  their  echoes  add  to  the  despair 


20  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Of  thousands,  who  within  the  fort  now  swartn 
Like  bees,  whose  ruler  royal  guidance  shirks  : 

In  disconcerted  clusters  they  await 
Return  of  messenger  but  lately  sent, 

Whose  coining  will  decide  their  present  fate — 
Alas!  of  hope,  more  empty  than  he  went. 

He  conies — and  soon  doth  stoic  terms  report: 
Surrender  must  be  swift  and  absolute; — 

Thus  sayeth  one  who  hath  no  ear  for  quirks; 
Who,  in  brief  space,  will  move  upon  the  works, 
If  there  be  further  signs  of  a  dispute. 
'T  were  over  now — surrendered  is  the  Fort. 

Behold,  the  light  is  changing  on  the  scroll — 
Like  molten  gold  its  surface  now  appears, 

While  topaz  gems  the  name  of  Grant  extol 
'Gainst  emeralds  forming  tidal  waves  of  cheers. 


CANTO   IV. 


O'er  the  bright  surface,  less  dazzling  but  clearer, 
Flush  of  the  Iris  and  Passion  Flowers  play, 
Seen  on  the  scroll,  as  in  amethyst  mirror, 
Federal  army  now  stretches  away, 
Like  to  broad  angle  of  ocean  and  bay, 

Federal  army  now  stretches  away. 
Waiting  approach  of  the  troops  drawing  nearer, 

Which  they  expect  will  have  joined  them  to-day 
True  to  the  cause  that  hath  hourly  grown  dearer, 
Federal  army  now  stretches  away. 

Deep  lettered  name  like  a  vision  of  slumber. 

Fraught  with  the  bygone*  of  wearisome  day, 
And  drowsy  conscience,  so  great  were  their  number. 
That  rest  was  sought  without  pausing  to  pray 
Even  as  dreams  wield  a  penitent  sway, 

That  rest  was  sought  without  pausing  to  pray 
So  quiv'ring  shadows  make  tenfold  more  sombre, 

Name  and  the  import  those  letters  portray, 
As  sleep  with  nightmare  of  grief  doth  encumber, 

That  rest  was  sought  without  pausing  to  pray 

Thus  on  the  scroll  e'en  as  pebbles  may  ruffle 

Lake  of  calm  beauty  and  darken  fair  stream, 
Or  as  black  cloud  may  a  pearly  sky  muffle, 

So  doth  the  fret-work  of  Shiloh  now  seem : 

Trembling  and  poising  like  thoughts  in  a  dream 

So  doth  the  fret -work  of  Shiloh  now   seem. 


*22  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Changed  is  the  scroll,  like  to  curtain  of  duffle. 
Hidden  from  view  is  the  amethyst  beam, 
Misname  of  rest  in  continuous  shuffle, 

So  doth  the  fret-work  of  Shiloh  now  seem. 

Ah,  not  for  naught  is  this  ill-omened  waver, 

'Tis  the  foredoom  of  artillery's  roar; 
Like  the  unheard  but  perceptible  quaver 

Of  panther  growl,  for  its  prey  held  in  store: 
Each  creeping  gloam  doth  partake  more   and   more 

Of  panther  growl,  for  its  prey  held  in  store. 
For  on  the  scroll  groweth  each  moment  graver, 
Weird  gloomy  outlines  fast  tracing  it  o'er, 
With  flitting  shadows  that  chillingly  savor 

Of  panther  growl,  for  its  prey  held  in  store. 

Now.  as  by  shock,  that  all  weak  lines  adjustetli, 

Rigid  the  scroll  doth  become,  as  the  crash 
Tells  how  the  soldier  for  soldier  blood  lusteth, 

Whetting  the  tooth  of  revenge  for  deep  gash: 
Strewn  is  the  scroll  with  mortality's  brash, 

Whetting  the  tooth  of  revenge  for  deep  gash. 
While  mangled  forms  the  field's  surface  encrusteth, 

Reeky — nay — red  is  the  bayonet's  flash, 
Grazing  the  hand  that  so  ruthlessly  thrusteth, 

Whetting  the  tooth  of  revenge  for  deep  gash. 

O!  the  dread  horror,  the  anguish,  the  wailing, 

Yivid  as  life  fraught  with  death,  on  the  scroll  ! 
Ears,  partly  dulled  to  the  fury  prevailing, 

Listing  a  call — not  the  drum's  wonted  roll: 

(Ah,  would  the  cold  lap  of  earth  might  console,) 

Listing  a  call — not  the  drum V wonted  roll. 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  23 

No  pall  will  cover  the  features  fast  paling; 

No  spoken  eulogy  brave  deeds  extol; 
Wild  is  the  dirge  now  those  faint  ears  assailing, 

Listing  a  call — not.  the  drum's  wonted  roll. 

Pale,  stern  and  silent,  yet  actively  eager, 

Rideth  the  Hero  'midst  thick  of  the  fight, 
While  unto  others  his  chances  seem  meagre. 

One  motto,   Victory,  ever  in  sight. 
His  is  a  will  that  no  weapon  may  smite, 

One  motto,    Victory^  ever  in  sight. 
E'en  though  the  enemy's  host  doth  beleaguer. 
Turns  he  full  calmly  to  left  and  to  right; 
Prompt  are  his  orders  as  those  of  intriguer, 
One  motto,    Victory,  ever  in  sight. 

True  to  himself,  though,  of  need,   heavy-hearted, 

Bides  he  the  coming  of  adequate  aid. 
Which  at  his  summons  hath  speedily  started 

On  a  forced  march  it  ere  long  shall  have  made, 
Filled  with  a  spirit  no  effort  may  jade 

On  a  forced  march  it  erelong  shall  have  made. 
Swift  to  the  rescue,  from  rest  lately  parted, 

Strides  toward  the  conflict  efficient  u  brigade  " 
Army,  to  succor  the  well -nigh  thwarted, 

On  a  forced  march  it  ere  long  shall  have  made. 

'Ha,  't  is  arrived  in  last  hour  of  depression; 

Aye,  and  the  sight  doth  lend  courage  and  hope; 
Changed  is  the  prospect  of  utter  oppression. 

Turned  is  the  current  of  death-laden  scope  : 
Fresh  for  the  onset  with  foemen  to  cope. 

Turned  is  the  current  of  death-h.den  scope. 


24  VISION  ON  THE  MOT  NT. 

Finn  is  the  tread  of  unbroken  procession, 

Bearing  'mid  war-clouds  a  semblance  of  lope 
On  to  regain  of  encampment  possession: 

Turned  is  the  current  of  death-laden  scope. 

Noble,  indeed,  is  the  service  they  render; 

Heedless  of  danger  they  steadily  sweep 
Back,  ever  backward,  each  foremost  offender; 

Purchased  with  blood  is  the  harvest  they  reap: 
Valor-won  ground  they  determine  to  keep, 

Purchased  with  blood  is  the  harvest  they  reap. 
Force  of  their  effort  dread  fear  doth  engender, 

Which  in  the  breast  of  the  foe  rankles  deep, 
Forming  the  base  of  full  lothful  surrender, 

Purchased  with  blood  is  the  harvest  they  reap. 

Yon,  with  a  mind  as  heroic  as  agile, 

Rides  now  the  chieftain  as  one  in  the  line 
That  is  to  charge  in  support  of  the  fragile, 

Hard-pressed  battalion,  which  else  must  resign. 
Lo  !  how  they  rally  at  valorous  sign, 

Hard-pressed  battalion  which  else  must  resign 
Portion  of  ground,  which  contested  by  inch,  till 

Soldierly  spirits  were  on  the  decline. 
Closing  their  ranks  now  they  light  with  renewed  will- 
Hard-pressed  battalion  which  else  must  resign. 

Short  is  the  struggle,  tor  with  the  assistance 
Brought  at  this  critical  moment  to  bear, 
Not  for  long  offer  the  foemen  resistance 

Flee  they  like  death-wounded  lions  for  lair. 
Prone  yet  as  ever  to  do  and  to  dare, 

Flee  they  like  death- wounded  lions  for  lair. 


VISION   OX  THK  MOUNT.  *25 

Not  with  will  broken,  but  strength  of  insistence, 

Warns  them  of  Federal  troops  to  beware. 
Soon  on  the  scroll  they  are  seen  in  the  distance, 
Fleeing  like  death -wounded  lions  for  lair. 


CANTO  V. 


The  scroll  seems  changed  to  a  battered  chart 
Ot  the  turbid,  changeful  sea  of  life. 

And  ever  appeareth,  though  dimly  seen, 
A  white  face,  fraught  with  pain, — between 
The  cold,  dark  "deep"  and  the  rough,  dry  land,. 
The  "will  o'  the  wisp"  and  the  frail  quick-sand; 
But  the  dew  of  the  soul  doth  amply  trace 
Those  features,  pale,  with  a  touch  of  grace: 
Faith's  beam  emvreathes — as  rare  design. 
When  wrought  by  master  hand  supine, 
Vests  careless  pose  with  saddened  charm, 
The  shaft  of  criticism  may  ne'er  disarm; — 
So  chastened  will  and  faith  combine. 

To  add  soft  glow  to  each  look  of  pain. 
And  tendrils  of  human  woe  entwine, 

Till  love,  alone,  in  his  heart  doth  reign, 
And  he  longs  for  the  hour  that  shall  end  the  strife 
In  which  he  hath  taken  a  Patriot's  part; 

Nay,  he  longs  for  the  soothing  tones  of  his  wife 
In  this  crucial  test  of  his  strong,  true  heart. 

Like  a  mirage  now  appears  the  scroll, 

With  its  two-fold,  quaint,  reflective  light, 
And  objects,  etched  with  a  glint  of  steel, 
The  utmost  strength  of  the  casts  reveal. 
Since  time  with  its  prurient  spur  hath  urged, 
Till  forth  from  the  furniiee  fire  emerged, 


VISION  ON  THK  MOUNT.  27 

Stands  he  of  the  soul-lit  pallid  face. 

The  foremost  form  in  the  tragic  race. 

He  had  vowed  to  win,  or  yield  his  breath 

To  fate,  remote  from  a  craven,  death, 

And  the  GEMS  of  his  soul  through  his  clear  eves  shine 

With  steadfast,  eloquent  glow-  divine; 

For  his  look  of  pain  hath  given  place 

To  infinite  strength  and  infinite  grace — 

Engirt,  as  it  were,  by  a  burnished  mold. 

Lo!  the  wondrous  loft  of  his  project  bold, 

As  it  towers  from  the  urn  of  his  thought's  best  prime, 

And  sheds  its  rays  o'er  his  will,  sublime, 
Till  his  view  discerns  the  longed-for  goal 

By  the  star  of  hope;  hence,  advice  he  scorns- 
No  lurking  fear  finds  place  in  his  soul— 

Though  well-beloved  is  each  friend  who  warns: 

Ah,  his  yearning  gaze  foresees  the  whole, 
While  friends  are  reft  of  a  glimpse  of  light, 
And  a  God-lent  power  his  acts  control, 
Till  he  guides  by  the  force  of  his  ponderous  might. 


CANTO  VI. 


Dense  the  darkness  were  but  now? 
Sable-draped  were  midnight's  brow. 

On  the  scroll  a  magic  change 
Doth  the  pall  of  night  derange. 

Fiery  prongs  dart  shades  among; 
Like  to  hideous  demons,  sprung 

Forth  from  caves,  with  belching  tones, 
As  if  shaken  by  cyclones. 

'T  is  the  gauntlet  flame  begun  ; 
Lo!  the  transports  boldly  run, 

Bearing  forward  human  freight, 
On  which  destiny  doth  wait, 

Hour  of  terror  now  is  o'er; 
Baleful  light  is  seen  no  more. 

Ere  long,  morning's  bright  return 
Seems  the  woes  of  night  to  spurn. 

As  from  rose-hued  fragrant  mouth. 
Balmy  breath  of  "  Sunny  South," 

Seems  the  while  to  softly  sigh, 
And  the  proofs  of  war  deny. 

Sweet  deception  may  not  last 
Soon  illusion's  charm  were  past. 


VISION  ON  THE  .MOUNT.  29 

And  the  faded  scroll  betrays 
Sudden  glimpse  of  darksome  days. 

Soon  "  Port  Gibson  "  comes  to  view, 
To  remind  that  war  is 


"  Raymond  "  follows  in  its  wake, 
For  the  cause  is  still  at  stake. 

"Jackson  "  hovers  in  the  rear, 
And  its  aspect,  too,  is  drear. 

When,  at  length,  these  battles  fought, 
Drive  the  enemy  distraught, 

"  Champion's  Hill,"  with  lurid  glare, 
Adds  its  morsel  of  despair. 

From  "  Black  River  "  is  the  draught 
Panic-stricken  foe  hath  quaffed, 

Ere  the  turn  of  fortune's  wheel, 
Oauseth  Federal  troops  to  reel 

Backward  from  the  mighty  crest 
Stretching  down  to  "  Yicksburg's  "  breast. 

Twice  repelling  at  dear  cost, 

Fierce  assaults  which  made  and  lost; 

Yet,  as  awful  preludes  bring 
To  the  foe  a  vital  sting  — 

For  they  know  no  power  may  stay 
Valor  such  as  troops  display, 


30  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Who  have  planted  battle-flags 
Riddled  unto  merest  rags. 

All  along  the  rampart's  edge, 
As  it  were  in  final  pledge 

Of  their  fixed  resolve  to  win, 
If  not  now  'mid  battle's  din, 

Later  on ; — their  acts  allege 
They  will  conquer  by  a  siege, 

For  they  've  caught  the  spirit  brave 
Of  the  Hero's  vow  to  save, 

If  in  human  power  it  lies, 
The  asundered  Union  ties. 

And  to  this  end,  if  need  be 
That  the  Nation  may  be  free, 

They  will  even  fast  or  starve, 
Rather  than  that  history  carve 

Record  of  defeated  cause, 

And  the  blight  to  Freedom's  laws. 

Lo!  the  siege  is  now  commenced, 
And  the  enemy,  entrenched, 

Doth  with  sorrowing  eyes  behold 
Federal  force  their  strength  unfold, 

As  its  waning  'durance  toils 
In  the  "Anaconda"  coils; 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  31 


Till  at  length,  in  torpid  state, 
Luckless  prey  hath  met  its  fate. 

Vicksburg  and  its  powers  hath  fell; 
Hence,  true  gratitude  doth  well 

From  the  hearts  that  gladly  chant 
Praises  unto  U.  S.  Grant. 


CANTO  VII. 

The  magic  scroll  is  again  transformed, 

Now  lucid  is  rerial  space; 
While  seems  by  sunbeams  to  be  warmed 

Its  scope  which  doth  full  much  embrace, 

Of  earth  and  sky  and  craggy  slope, 

Which  grandeur  lends  to  the  mountain  ridge, 
With  which  brave  army  soon  will  cope 

And  its  dread  power  for  e'er  abridge. 

The  white  tents  gleam  and  the  banners  ^vave, 
The  drums  and  the  bugles  sound  their  notes; 

Behold  wan  faces  growing  grave 

As  the  martial  music  upward  floats: 

Which  soon  is  deadened  by  the  roar 
Of  cannon  from  the  heights  above, 

Resounding  ever,  o'er  and  o'er, 

Like  ardent  words  from  lips  of  love. 

But,  oh!  what  a  contrast  to  the  tones 

That  thrill  the  soul  with  a  lingering  joy, 

The  deep-mouthed  cannon  loudly  groans, 
And  fraught  are  its  echoes  with  alloy; 

For  it  were  tired  by  the  zeal  of  hate 

And  a  sense  of  the  anguish  it  may  bear, 

While  the  voice  of  love  doth  strife  abate, 
And  renders  the  earth  an  Eden  fair. 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  88 

Yet,  oh,  how  grand  is  the  bayonet's  gleam, 

Ajid  how  magnificent  martial  tread 
Of  the  troops  as  across  the  field  they  stream, 

With  a  brave  commander  at  their  head. 

He  leads  them  onward  toward  the  base 

Of  Lookout  Mountain,  ere  the  foe 
May  tenor  of  his  purpose  trace, 

Or  any  thought  of  danger  know. 

Before  they're  fairly  undeceived 

Two  hundred  men  have  captured  been; 

Of  duty,  pickets  are  relieved 
In  manner  they  account  a  sin. 

Night  shrouds  the  earth  in  sable  garb, 

The  noble  Hero  sits  aliane, 
While  in  his  breast  he  feels  the  barb 

Which  only  honest  hearts  may  own. 

What  of  to-morrow,  who  shall  say, 

He  trusts,  yet  keenly  anxious  is; 
The  brave  are  pledged  to  gain   the  day, 

Yet  all  the  weight  of  war  is  his. 

Once  more  the  light  of  morning  breaks 
With  wondrous  splendor  o'er  the  scroll, 

Its  rays  the  weary  soldier  wakes 
Assisted  by  the  drum's  long  roll. 

Ere  long,  the  sun  doth  glint  the  air 

Through  which  the  bugles  "Forward"  rings, 

And  every  man  to  do  and  dare 

Resolves  as  onward  now  he  springs. 


34  VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

Soon  secondary  ridge  is  gained, 
And  now,  unto  the  foeman  near, 

The  field  ere  long  is  crimson  stained, 
For  mighty  is  the  struggle  here. 

Seen  in  the  distance  now  they  move, 
The  troops,  who  chafed  at  long  delay, 

Full  soon  their  valor  they  will  prove, 
Since  under  arms  they've  stood  all  day. 

Alas,  for  the  fate  of  the  picket  line, 
Alas,  for  the  rows  of  rifle  pits, 

The  sun  and  the  glitter  of  steel  combine 
To  dazzle,  till  foenien  lose  their  wits 

And  prostrate  fall— extended  prone 
Beneath  those  bayonets  at  charge, 

A  thousand  men,  through  fright  alone, 
Vast  host  of  prisoners  enlarge. 

The  valiant  troops  still  onward  press, 
No  halt  is  made  to  reform  the  line, 

To  scale  the  mountain,  nothing  less, 

Will  their  thoughts  to  past  delay  resign. 

The  flaming  torrent  from  above 
They  do  not  for  an  instant  heed, 

Behold,  the  strength  of  Country's  love 
Which  makes  them  nothing  loth  to  bleed. 

Now,  on  and  upward  still  they  go, 
First  line  and  second  of  the  works 


VISION  ON  THE  MOUNT.  35 

Are  past — their  progress  now  is  slow — 
Yet,  not  one  strength  of  purpose  shirks. 

Hand  over  hand  they  upward  surge, 

Despite  the  raging  storm  of  fire, 
Which  doth  each  form  in  flame  im merge, 

As  warranting  ghastly  funeral  pyre. 

But,  now  at  length  the  top  is  gained, 

They  stand  upon  the  blood  red  crest; 
A  glorious  triumph  they've  attained. 

And  satisfied — soon  sink  to  rest. 

The  people  now  their  thanks  proclaim, 
And  Congress  with  the  world  doth  vie 

In  doing  honor  to  his  name, 
By  lifting  him  to  station  high. 


CANTO  VIII. 


The  scroll  hath  caught  the  glimmer 
That  streaks  the  early  dawn 

With  saffron  tints, 
Whose  vague,  uncertain  shimmer 
Doth  Orient  surface  fawn 
With  bossy  glints. 

A  wilderness  outstretches 
Athwart  the  lightened  scroL, 

Of  foliage  dense, 
Whose  sylvan  verdure  etchos, 

With  greenish  bronze,  the  whole 
Surroundings,  whence 

The  smoke  of  battle  issues, — 
For  tangled* thicket-glen, 

And  stately  pine, 
Have  blended  well  their  tissues, 
As  sedge  in  heart  of  fen 
Doth  intertwine. 

Lo!  men  are  met  in  warfare, 
As  't  were  with  blinded  view, 

'Mid  shades  obscure; 
Lit  only  by  the  fierce  glare, 
Whose  fathoms  do  imbrue — 
In  blood  full  pure — 


VISION  OK  THE  MOUNT. 

While  ag-o-ny  of  darkness 
The  morning  air  pervades, 
With  stifling  gloom; 
Yet,  are  by  no  means  markless 
The  glittering  bayonet  blades, 
Whose  thrust  is  doom. 

In  gory  sweat  men  swelter. 
Within  the  dismal  wold, 

Where  graves  are  not; 
There,  'neath  the  brush- wood  shelter. 
The  bravest  forms  grow  cold, 
To  be  forgot. 

For  hours  full  many  linger- 
Quite  conscious  of  their  fate — 

To  pray,  yet  doubt, 
That  touch  of  gentle  finger 
May  come,  however  late, 
While  life  ekes  out; 

That  mother's  kiss  may  flutter 
Above  departing  breath, 

Or  father's  voice 
Some  soothing  words  may  utter, 
To  take  the  "sting "  from  death, 
Till  soul  rejoice; 

That  wife  may  murmur  sweetly: 
"  Take  comfort,  I  am  here"; 

Then,  if  need  be 
That  death  must  follow  fleetly, 
'T  were  well  to  die  with  cheer, 
From  suff  ring  free. 


#8  VISION  ON   THE   MOUNT. 

That  sister's  tears  may  chasten 
Kadi  hall-forgotten  fault, 

O'er  dying  bed; 
Or  brother's  hand  unfasten 
The  door  of  kindred  vault, 
To  view  dear  dead. 

Adown  the  sun  is  sinking, 
The  dreary  day  is  o'er; 

The  battle  done; 
The  living  sadly  thinking 
Upon  the  'morrow's  store— 
No  victory  won. 

Again  gray  dawn  appeareth; 
Again  the  wondrous  scroll 

Warfare  reveals. 
Again  the  evening  neareth; 
Again  heroic  sonl 

Deep  sorrow  feels. 

O,  wilderness  of  peril  ! 
O,  forest  of  the  dead  ! 

Fade,  if  thou  wilt; 
Of  grandeur  thou  art  sterile. 
Thy  cruel  heart  is  red 

With  brave  blood  spilt. 


CANTO  IX. 


The  scroll  with  deep  carnation  is  imbued, 

While  o'er  its  surface  carmine  color  wends 

In  wild  meand'rings  awful  to  behold. 

Now,  letters  which  't  would  seem  were  trebly  dyed 

In  human  blood  do  swiftly  course  their  way, 

Unto  the  centre  of  the  reddened   scroll, 

A  moment  more  a  name  doth  boldly  stand 

In  high  relief  against  its  crimson  face, 

The  name  of  Spottsylvania,  and  anon, 

The  carmine  color  is  by  scroll  absorbed, 

When  troops,  assembled  quickly,  do  engage 

In  combat  so  terrific  that  its  force 

Would  seem  to  paralyze  the  looker-on, 

As  hand-to-hand  the  furious  foemen  fight, 

Till  hours  have  swelled  the  dial   to  a  day, 

And  night,  as  if  in  mercy,  spreads  her  pall 

O'er  carnage  which  hath  formed  a  vast  array. 

The  lapse  of  time  might  well  be  reckoned  small, 
Ere  such  assault  as  other  warrior  none 
Hath  ever  made,  is  fiercely  brought  to  bear 
At  juncture  when  to  fail  seemed  grievous  wrong, 
To  those  who  have  invested  with  high  rank, 
Thus  proving  strength  of  their  explicit  trust, 
To  fail  were  torture,  yet  no  human  power 
The  dread  calamity  could  well  avert, 
Of  double  failure  in  the  huge  attempts 


40  VISION  OX    THE    MOUNT. 

To  storm  the  enemy's  impervious  works. 
'Tis  done  !     Each  failure  takes  a  new  resolve. 
Once  more  a  siege  he  doth  determine  on, 
And  to  this  end  he  sends  for  soldier  brave 
And  yields  to  him  responsible-command. 
Shenandoah  Valley  in  due  time  is  cleared, 
Forevermore,  from  presence  of  the  foe; 
While  other  soldier,  likewise  u  tried  and  true," 
Hath  won  Atlanta  as  contested  prize, 
To  be  o'ercapped  ere  long  by  other  name, 
That  of  Savannah  added  to  the  list, 
Of  conquests  he  may  rightlv  call  his  own. 
Still,  other  warriors  acteth  well  their  part- 
While  "  Rock  of  Chickamagua  "  stands  as  firm, 
As  did  the  noble  chieftain  who  expired 
Amid  the  thunder  of  the  war  clouds  cleft 
In  twain  by  lighning  of  Atlanta's  'fray. 
The  battle  of  Five  Forks  is  fought  and  won, 
And  Petersburg,  as  well,  hath  come  and  go\ie, 
Before  the  changeful  surface  of  the  scroll, 
Which  was  but  now  like  to  a  sheet  of  flame 
Reflecting  all  the  woe  of  Richmond's  fall. 
Now  in  chimeric  fashion  it  doth  fade 
And  disappear  before  his  mortal  sight. 
Swift  turn  his  thoughts  to  yonder  cottage  now: 
Behold,  the  dying  hero  with  thin  hands 
Outstretched  toward  heaven,  as  he  speaketh  thus 
"  /  go  to  dwell  within  my  fathers  house — 
Raise  up  another  in  your  time  of  need" 

The  dark-browed  man  hath  risen  to  his  feet 
And  sauntered  forth  into  the  shades  of  night. 


ROCK  OF  AGES. 


The  Rabbi  for  the  Hero's  soul  doth  Pray; 

The  Freedman  in  his  sorrow  doth  Exclaim ; 
The  Patriot  doth  his  deeds  extol  for  Aye; 

The  vanquished  right  to  bear  the  bier  doth  Claim; 
And  doubly  bowed  with  grief  are  heads  of  Eld; 

E'en  heart  of  stone  this  hour  must  needs  unlock; 

Lo!  note  the  tracing  on  the  riven  rock, 
Cleft  but  the  hearts  of  men  to  firmer  weld. 

The  hand  that  holds  the  rod  doth  loudly  knock: 

Behold  !  the  "  living  waters ''  from  the  rock 
Gush  forth,  the  thirst  for  strife  to  slake  and  cease; 
"•  Drink,  O  my  people,  drink,  and  be  at  PEACE." 


REQUIEM. 


Drum,  drum,  drum,  how  the  heart  of  the  Nation  throbs; 
Thrum,  thrum,  thrum,  how  the  voice  of  the  Nation  sobs! 

Tears,  tears,  tears,  like  a  iiood  of  rain  they  fall; 
Years,  years,  years,  will  the  mighty  tiood  recall! 

Crape,  crape,  crape,  how  potent  now  its  name; 
Drape,  drape,  drape,  sad  memory  with  the  same! 

Tread,  tread,  tread,  with  a  reverent  step  and  slow; 
Dead,  dead,  dead,  is  the  word  now  murmured  low! 

Grant,  Grant,  Grant,  whose  deeds  the  wide  world  knows; 
Chant,  chant,  chant,  a  hymn  for  his  repose! 

Grieve,  grieve,  grieve,  as  every  heart  must  do; 
Leave,  leave,  leave,  to  God  the  soul  so  true! 

Boom,  boom,  boom,  how  the  cannon  thunders  o'er 
Tomb,  tomb,  tomb,  of  our  Hero  gone  before! 

Deep,  deep,  deep,  is  the  mystery  of  the  grave; 
Sleep,  sleep,  sleep,  the  calm  sleep  of  the  brave! 

Time,  time,  time,  will  render  quaint  and  blest; 
Chime,  chime,  chime,  for  the  great,  now  laid  to  rest. 


THE   LAST   TRIBUTE. 


The  day  wore  slowly  on,  and  I,  full  weary, 
Was  prone  to  rest  iny  head  upon  my  hand ; 

For  thoughts  depressive  made  the  hour  seem  dreary. 
Soon  balmy  dreamland  was  at  my  command. 

Ii;  my  fair  native  State,  I  thought  I  lingered 

Anear  a  vast  assemblage — yet  apart; 
The  while  a  laurel  -wreath  I  deftly  fingered, 

An  humble  tribute  from  a  grieving  heart. 

I  would  not  that  the  throng  should  gaze  upon  me — 
The  great  had  done  their  part,  and  done  it  well — 

Alone  with  God  and  Xature  I  would  fain  be, 
To  add  my  mite;  yet  why  I  could  not  tell. 

The  solemn  rites  were  o'er,  and  still  they  tarried, 
Loth,  every  one,  to  leave  the  pensive  scene; 

Butj-or  their  presence  I  had  gently  carried 

And  placed  the  now  completed  wreath  of  green. 

Instead,  I  crouched  me  down  among  the  shadows; 

For,  coming  twilight  lent  a  duskish  sheen, 
And  welcome  was  the  sombre  tier  of  hedgerows 

Which  formed  for  me  a  fitting  lattice  screen. 

Full  patiently  I  waited,  yet  in  sadness, 

For,  as  the  shadows  dense  and  deeper  grew, 

I  almost  wondered  if  it  were  not  madness 

That  twined  the  wreath,  now  damp  with  evening  dew. 


44  THE  LAST  TRIBUTE. 

Ah,  no!  ^a  loyal  heart!"  I  answered  slowly, 

"And  willing  hand !  "     'T  were  meet,  and  it  shall   be. 

GRANT — world-renowned — did  not  ignore  the  lowly; 
'T  were  jnst  a  wayside  flower,  this  act  from  me. 

And  now,  at  length,  the  throng  grew  less  in  number; 

I,  ever  wary,  still  my  vigil  kept, 
Till  'bove  the  bier  of  him  in  endless  slumber 

The  last  unbidden  world's-tear  had  been  wept. 

An  undefined  yet  half-expectant  tremor 

Possessed  my  frame  and  Ueld  me  there,  spell-bound; 
As  by  eclipse,  the  wreath  grew  dim  and  dimmer, 

And  still  I  crouched,  in  silence,  near  the  ground. 

I  longed  to  place  the  late  but  heartfelt  token, 
As  by  some  mystic  power  I  was  deterred; 

I  rather  felt  than  saw  the  wreath  had  broken, 
While  but  the  subtlest  breath  of  air  had  stirred. 

A  deep-drawn  sigh  oppressed  my  heaving  bosom, 

My  parted  lips  encouraged  its  escape; 
'T  were  quenched,  for  now  I  saw  a  yawning  chasm,       ' 

Deep,  armor-lined,  yet  like  a  sword  in  shape. 

'T  were  spanned  across  by  girdled  rope  of  laurel, 
'Mid  which  a  wealth  of  precious  gems  did  gleam; 

The  air  above  reflected  tint  of  coral, 

On  cherub  forms  with  which  it  now  did  teem. 

At  hilt  of  sword,  a  huge,  bald-headed  eagle, 
Surveyed  the  scene  with  calm  but  piercing  eye, 

As  if  his  presence  made  proceedings  legal, 

He,  "stationed  guard  on  duty,"  posed  "  hard  by." 


THE  LAST  TKIBtTTE.  45 

And  now  a  stately  form  approached  the  chasm, 
Just  opposite  the  spot  of  GKAWT'S  repose, 

While  o'er  his  pallid  face  of  pain  a  spasm 
Did  all  the  anguish  of  his  soul  disclose. 

He,  too,  respect  would  pay  the  brave  departed, 
For  in  his  hand  a  beauteous  wreath  he  held. 

In  eyes  of  wondrous  eloquence  tears  started. 
To  cross  the  chasm  he  would  be  compelled. 

He  gazed  aloft  toward  hallowed  throne  of  Heaven, 
And  seemed  to  breathe  a  silent,  soul-fraught    prayer, 

As  if  celestial  courage  had  been  given, 

To  cross  the  sword  he  did  at  once  prepare. 

He  bared  his  head,  he  drew  full  close  his  mantle — 
Or  mourning  garb  'round  his  majestic  form — 

And  then  with  tread  both  firm  and  reverential, 
He  walked  the  rope  whence  issued  colors  warm. 

For,  at  each  step,  the  sparkling  gems  emitted 

Bright  rainbowr  tints,  the  fresh  green  leaves,  anon, 

(llowed  'till  'twould  seem  that  heaven  in  truth  had  pitied. 
And  lent  its  arch  for  him  to  tread  upon. 

Yet  not  by  this  light  only,  was  he  guided  ; 

By  far  more  lustrous  was  the  single  star 
Which  u  better  part  of  valor"  had  decided 

Must  set  forever  at  the  close  of  war. 

Long  years  it  smouldered  'neath  the  scourge  of  battle. 
For  time  its  brightness  had  been  dimmed  by  gore; 

The  dust  and  ashes  clung  as  clingeth  tattle, 
Which  hath  the  power  to  probe  anew  a  sore. 


4fi  THE    LAST  TRIBUTE. 

The  impress  of  its  flinty,  crimson  setting, 

Left  scar  and  stain  '  twere  hard  to  cleanse  away, 

Save  by  the  tears  suffused  with  heaven's  wetting— 
That  line  immortal  mist  supplied  to-day. 

It  fell — it  did  its  work  as  swift  and  surely 

As  doth  the  lightning  smite  the  mighty  oak — 

The  star  shone  forth  in  radiance  as  purely 
As  shineth  infant  eyes  but  freshly  woke. 

As  night  drew  on,  instead  of  losing  lustre, 
Its  brilliant  rays  so  rapidly  increased, 

That  marvelous  halos  of  light  did  cluster 

Hound  hand  of  one  ere  he  his  task  had  ceased. 

lie  twined  and  wove  the  laurel  sprays  together, 
Until  such  wreath  as  ne'er  before  were  seen— 

Designed,  'twould  seem,  the  fiercest  storms  to  weather- 
Were   wrought  !      At  front  he  set  the  star  between, 

The  glossy  mass  of  leaves  time  may  not  wither; 

And  then  at  eventide,  as  I  have  told, 
He  bore  that  radiant  wreath  and  journeyed  hither 

To  sepulchre  of  GKANT  ;  and  now   behold  ! 

The  star  illumines  all  his  onward  pathway — 

u  A  flaming  sword  ""  the  chasm's  brink  doth  gird, 

And  white  the  eagle's  plumage  turned,  as  surf  spray, 
To  know  e'en  glance  of  fear  hath  aged  the  bird. 

The  form  advanced,  and  ere  long,  safely  over 
The  sword-like  chasm,  lo!  forthwith  it  closed  ; 

Fresh  broken  sod  formed  velvet  sheath  to  cover, 
Yet  still  were  hilt  and  eagle  left  exposed. 


THE  LAST    TRIBUTE.  47 

He  knelt  at  foot  of  tomb,  then  softly  sighing. 
He  pressed  his  lips  unto  the  peerless  star. 

A  moment  more  the  wreath  ablaze  was  lying 
With  matchless  light,  whose  glory  spread  afar. 

It  beautified  the  wealth  of  flowery  symbols, 

It  softened  snowy  pillow  at  the  head, 
It  changed  the  tone  of  crape-bound  harp    and   timbrels. 

Which  erst  had  softly  echoed,  "  GRANT  is  dead." 

GRANT  LIVKTH,"  rose  in  blue  light  all  snow  pelted— 
For  violets  were  with  stephanotis  starred; 

The  Nation's  u  bleeding  heart''  was  quickly  melted. 
Its  generous  flow  soon  snowy  pillow  barred, 

With  stripes  of  red,  so  rich,  so  fresh,  so  fragrant, 
It  seemed  to  me  that  Paradise  were  nigh ; 

From  star — bright  line  of  light,  yet  not  too  flagrant, 
Shot  upward,  hoisting  Freedom's  Hag  on  high. 

And  as  it  waved,  the  eagle  flapped  white  pinion. 
Ere  hovering  for  a  moment  o'er  the  head 

Ot  him  who  seemed  to  have  supreme  dominion 
O'er  these  unique  obsequies  of  the  dead. 

Then,  swooping  low,   the  bald  and  silvered  eagle, 
Amid  white  light  which  now  was  waxing  soft, 

Fulfilled  his  mission  in  a  way  most  regal: 

Pie  snatched  the  wreath  and  with  it  soared  aloft. 

Above  the  magic  formed   >w  Star  Spangled  Banner,'' 
O'er  golden  staff  upon  "  Red,  White  and  Blue," 

He  flung  the  gorgeous  wreath  in  royal  manner, 
Then  from  the  scene  of  action  slowlv  flew. 


48  THE  LAST   TRIBUTE. 

The  wreath  becomes  a  crown  of  wondrous  brightness, 

The  star  a  sapphire  of  the  purest  my, 
The  furling  flag  a  winding  sheet  of  whiteness, 

The  hilt  of  sword,  a  stone  just  rolled  away. 

And  now,  behold  the  crowning  scene  of  glory  ! 

The  Patriot  Chieftain  •'  to  his  colors  true," 
Waved  thrice  his  hand  toward  the  eagle  hoary, 

As  round  his  form  the  faded  flag  he  drew; 

While  on  his  brow  the  crown  he  then  made  firmer, 
His  lips  were  moving,  I  could  plainly  see  ; 

I  strained  my  ear  to  catch  the  tender  murmur — 
'Twas  but  a  single  word — the  name  of  LEE. 

Lo,  thereupon,  the  armor  with  one  volley, 

Discharged  within  the  chasm's  hollow  womb; 

The  light  o'erpowered  !  for  me  it  would  be  folly 
To  try  to  paint  the  scene  above  the  tomb. 

I  only  know  at  very  verge  of  Heaven, 

uThe  Father  of  his  Country  "  did  appear, 

With  martyrs  twain — to  each  of  whom  'twere  given 
To  shed  a  soul-bedewed  immortal  tear. 

The  smoke  of  battle  once  for  all  had  vanished— 
In  lieu  thereof  behold  white,  fleecy  clouds, 

Whose  wondrous  texture  every  shadow  banished 
And  paled  the  air — like  ghosts  in  filmy  shrouds. 

I  turned  my  head  to  note  once  more  the  donor, 
Of  wreath  and  star,  anon  transformed  to  crown, 

By  heaven's  decree,  illustrious  brow  to  honor  ! 
I  sought  for  him  who  wore  the  sable  gown. 


THE  LAST  TRIBUTE.  49 

In  vain  my  search;  yet  no  word  dare  I  utter, 
The  weight  of  silence  mate  influence  brings; 

Yet,  even  now  I  think  I  hear  the  flutter 
Of  rustling  garments,  like  to  angel  wings. 

If  it  be  he,  rejoining  the  Immortal, 

Seraphic  host,  for  which  my  soul  doth  pine, 

O,  may  we  meet  at  Heaven's  pearly  portal, 
Or  near  the  Everlasting  Throne  Divine, 

As  if  by  some  strong  shock  or  fell  misgiving, 

My  trembling  heart  now  gave  one  mighty  bound; 

I  'woke  to  find  myself  among  the  living, 

Devoid  of  power  my  strange  dream  to  expound. 

Yet  will  I  trust,  't  were  not  of  need  quite  sterile, 

To  me  its  mem'ry  shall  be  ever  dear, 
But  precious  as  a  monument  of  beryl, 

Hath  it  the  power  to  stay  "  A  WIDOW'S  TEAR." 


A   VOICE   FROM    AFAR. 


Why  stand  ye  there  disconsolate  and  glum? 
Doth  it  behoove  that  Nature's  noblemen 
Shall  waste  one  trice  of  time  in  vain  regret? 
And  would  ye  brand  the  epoch  whence  the  years 
That  Time  shall  name  tkan  age"  were  given  birth, 
By  actions  rife  with  glaring  malcontent — 
By  lowering  brows  and  mutterings  morose — 
To  render  callow,  in  the  fullest  sense, 
The  motto  that  "  IN  UNION  THERE  is  STRENGTH?" 
Wouldst  lend  yourselves  unwittingly  to  mock 
The  precepts  which  erewhile  ye  have  instilled 
In  verdant  minds?     Wouldst  recklessly  corrode, 
Ere  harvest  time,  the  wholesome  vintage  fruits — 
Fair  products  of  good  seed  most  nobly  sown? 
Nay,  nay!     'T  were  but  a  passing  blindness;  yet 
'T  were  fitting  that  u  the  silent  man  "  should  speak. 
Know,  then,  that  he,  now  passed  beyond  the  strife — 
The  narrowness  of  earth's  entire  expanse — 
Who  views  with  fan t less  sight  that  mundane  orb 
Whose  "  beam  "  descries  an  ever-present  "  mote.'' 
Know  that  with  vision  clear  as  crystal  jet — 
Far  reaching — he,  compassionate  of  soul, 
Yearns  tenderly  to  draw  aside  the  v7eil; 
That. earth's  loved  comrades  share  effulgent  light; 
Late  friends  and  brothers — -heirs  of  holy  bond, 
Whose  golden  links  of  need  are  stronger  far 
Than  any  our  staunch  friendships  e'er  did  weld. 


A  VOICE  FROM  AFAR.  51 

In  that  ye  all  to  me  are  closer  drawn ; 

While  I,  at  peace,  and  evermore  unscathed 

By  twaddling  censure  in  the  mouths  of  men; 

Free  from  the  cruel  lash  of  cold  distrust, 

Nor  longer  harrowed  by  vicissitudes 

Which  stalk  unchallenged  in  the  wake  of  all, 

Like  wary  spectres,  biding  well  the  time 

When  hey-day  prime  is  past, — suspicions  fled 

That  it  be  their  design  to  overtake. 

Then,  with  swift,  stealthy  stride,  as  is  their  wont, 

They  gain  the  vantage  ground  and  boldly  flaunt 

Their  colors-  -though,  in  truth,  they  conquer  not; 

While  honest  friends  in  blank  amazement  gaze 

On  the  proceedings  till,  half  paralyzed, 

They  fail  to  act  as  quickly  as  they  would, 

Arid  powerless  grow,  however  a  tried  and  true'1; 

Till,  later  on,  they  rally,  and  in  time 

Lay  bare  the  case,  and  facts  investigate. 

Such  mode  were  human — nothing  more  or  less — 

And  likewise  were  it  human  to  regret 

That  one  should  be  "caught  napping  at  his  post," 

Though  that  one  prove  to  be  one's  better  self ! 

Yet  are  regrets  as  base  purloining  thieves, 

Whose  purpose,  sinister,  is  but  to  sap 

The  healthful  juices  from  the  buoyant  heart, 

And  dredge  the  remnant  with  their  own  ioul  bane. 

Now,  hearken  well,  I  know  wThereof  I  speak, 

And  speaking  as  one  lately  passed  beyond 

The  horizon  that  frames  the  mode  of  men : 

I  would  diffuse  trariquility's  rare  balm. 

And  something  of  pure  sentiment  impart. 

What  doth  it  signify,  where  mortal  dust, 


52  A  VOICE  FUO1V1   AFAR. 

From  which  my  soul  hath  parted  company,  ' 

Shall  dwindle  till  no  atom  there  remains, 

So  that  mv  bones  be  not  contention's  prey? 

And  to  yourselves,  what  doth  it  matter,  save 

As  trophy  of  that  gloating  rivalry 

Which  doth  inflate  the  willing  hearts  of  men 

On  such  occasions,  till  becomes  a  farce, 

Or  misnomer,  the  effort  they  construe 

As  most  respectful  to  the  prior  cause? 

For  e'en  as  nacre  may  be  smeared  and  dimmed 

By  dross  of  barnacle  or  calcium  blur: 

So,  motives,  once  as  pure  as  jasper  rays, 

If  fostered  by  the  reek  of  envy's  slum, 

May  not  conceal  the  parasitic  blight; 

That  gross  exchange  for  that  which  of  itself 

Had  chastely  thriven  till  its  envoy  sparks 

Did  glitter  richly  inxthe  noonday  sun, 

When,  lo!  the  motive  pure  and  self-sustained, 

Had  towered  resplendent  with  prismatic  light. 

If  ye  would  rear  a  monument,  so  strong 

That  no  power  known  to  man  may  e'er  detract 

One  whit  from  solid  base  or  lofty  spire, 

Whose  polished  column — nay,  whose  burnished  shaft 

The  vaulted  dome  of  heaven  will  not  shame 

By  contrast,  but  whose  canopy  will  grace 

Its  capital,  which,  looming  'gainst  the  sky, 

With  breathe  forth  language  eloquent  as  mute, 

At  roseal  dawn  of  morn,  at  prime  of  noon. 

At  amber  sunset  and  at  verge  of  eve, 

At  twilight  vespers,  when  the  tim'rous  stars, 

Like  bashful  messengers,  in  tufts  appear, 

At  night,  when  purple  shadows  fade  before 


A  VOICE  FROM  AFAK.  53 

The  radiant  imprint  of  the  moon's  ripe  kiss, 

At  glowering  midnight,  from  whose  visage  grim 

Those  love-fraught  beams  in  turn  do  shrink  and  wane, 

At  all  hours,  seasons,  and  through  all  extremes, 

A  language  that  will  penetrate  its  way. 

Like  the  aroma  from  ambrosial  beds 

When  press  the  feet  of  Archangels  upon 

Their  marv'lous  wealth  of  amaranthine  blooms: 

A  mute  oration,  whose  sage  paragraphs, 

The  op'ning  calyxes  of  spring-time  flowers, 

The  azure  tint  of  summer,  and  the  rain 

That  patters  softly  on  the  autumn  leaves, 

The  Indian-summer  haze  which  blandly  waits 

To  usher  in,  betimes,  the  crisp  hoar  frost, 

The  whited  drifts  of  winter,  and  the  snow, 

Whose  gleam  perennial  pales  the  mountain  peaks: 

All  will  in  turn  appear  to  have  TRANSCRIBED! 

And  like  a  silver  bell,  whose  ring  is  heard 

By  sense  acute  ere  its  clear  notes  peal  forth; 

So  discourse  dumb  may  still  be  so  replete 

With  ornate  utterance,  albeit  restrained, 

That  mind,  susceptible  to  import  grand, 

Doth  memorize  what  it  hath  SEEMED  to  say, 

And,  echoing  down  the  ages,  wisdom's  words 

Doth  thus  renew  their  elsewise  flagging  power, 

Till  on  the  oriflamme,  whose  scroll-ed  verge 

Do  quaintly  span  the  zenith,  is  inscribed 

A.  glorious  MORAL,  which  shall  live  for  aye. 

If  ye  would  carve  a  record  that  will  last 

Till  mountains  shall  be  moved  and  seas  consumed, 

Bear  ye  no  malice  'gainst  your  fellow-men; 

And  if  your  purpose  be  to  honor  me, 


54  A  VOICE  FROM  AFAR. 

Or  yet  my  memory,  tor  my  deeds  on  earth, 
I  do  beseech,  ye  act  with  one  accord; 
For  I  am  bound  to  none,  save  through  the  love 
Which  renders  me  commiserate  toward  all; 
Nor  would  I  have  withheld  a  farthing  which 
Doth  represent  a  secret  wish  to  give; 
"The  widow's  mite,"  the  stripling's  hoarded  store, 
The  dimpled  lassie's  pence,  and  youth's  proud  sum 
Should  have  a  place  beneath  the  corner-stone. 
For  I  am  of  the  people,  e'en  as  dew, 
Which  freshens  drooping  plants,  is  of  the  clouds, 
And  ye  shall  note  my  pleasure  and  my  thanks 
Shine  forth  in  gratitude  from  smiling  sky, 
From  nower-clad  hills  and  mossy  woodland  haunts, 
From  placid  lake,  from  shimmering  olive  bough, 
And  from  the  white-capped  billows,  which  delight 
To  stud  with  countless  gems  their  lofty  crests; 
Then,  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  signal  give 
That  all  their  treasure  is  to  be  received 
By  Goddess  fair;  when  lo!  that  a-ged  dame, 
Knowrn  bv  repute  as  worthy  Mother  Earth, 
Doth  smooth  her  spacious  lap  and  meekly  wait 
The  shower  of  moistened  gems,  which  place  have  had 
In  helmet  lately  vanished  from  the  sight, 
All  the  bright  visions  which  your  eyes  behold, 
From  time  to  time,  when  turn  your  thoughts  to  me, 
Shall  be  imbued  with  pleasure  of  my  soul  ; 
Nor  shall  ye  fail  to  hear  the  words,  "  well  done." 


YB  37933 


M304683 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


